Wife Of A Ruthless Mafia Boss

"Perfect!" Azy, my manager, shouted enthusiastically when the shoot has ended. I walked towards the dressing room and tiredly sat in front of a vanity mirror, my three PA’s immediately approached me to put some retouch ¾powder here, lipstick there, a typical scene for me as a model. "Oh my gosh! You're really a definition of perfection, Jazzie," Azy said while standing behind me. I winced and simply shook my head. I wish if you only know. "Gorgeous, sexy, rich and other traits that are truly admired by most of the men," he continued while still pointing at my whole being. I rolled my eyes at him on the mirror and let out a deep breath. "Stop it, Azy. You knew how much I hate it," I uttered, talking about the compliments he gave. He rolled his eyes at me and flipped his imaginary long hair. "My God! Jazzie. I don't know if you're just being humble or you hate the truth. Alas! If I had that face and body, I wouldn't just flex that on the catwalk, but also at the kitchen, living room or even at the restroom," he said along with his laughter. "You're pure nonsense, Azy Angelo," I muttered. Quickly, his face changed then. "Oh my gosh! My ear, oh my gosh!" he acted while covering his ear with his finger. I laughed sparingly and then picked up my phone that was currently glowing over the vanity mirror. My face became emotionless when I saw the name on the screen. I lazily swiped up the answer button and put the phone to my ear. "Are you done?" a cold baritone voice spoke on the line. "Yeah," I simply answered and signalled my PAs to stop. They moved away from me and let me sort my things out on my own. "Jaime will pick you up," he said and then the line ended. I took a deep breath and hid the phone in my bag. "Do I have a schedule this week?" I asked and looked at Azy on the mirror. He pouted. "You actually have a project in Paris, but obviously, it seems like you don't want to receive an international photo shoot," he sounded sulky and displeased. It was not that I do not like it. "You have so many offers abroad, but you do not want to accept any of them. You are losing so much opportunity, Jazzie," he reminded me. I forced a smile and zipped up my bag. I walked towards him then gently touched his shoulder. "I'm really fine here in the Philippines, Azy." He stared at me and then heaved a sigh. "If that's your decision, I can't do anything else. Your schedule this week is vacant as you requested," he said. I grimaced again and thanked before finally saying goodbye. Five body guards immediately surrounded me as soon as I exited the building I was in. A few more cameras flashed instantly as I walked towards the car that had sent by the person I was talking earlier. I was so shocked when I saw an unexpected person inside the car as I got myself in the back seat. I cleared my throat and composed myself while leaning against the seat. "You really like cameras, huh?" the man beside me spoke. I avoided rolling my eyes and just looked out of the window where I could see the three paparazzi who had been watching me earlier. Apparently, they can’t see us now because the car window’s tinted. "I'm a model, Valjerome. It was natural," I reasoned out. As if you didn't know how much I wanted to be a model since then. Or maybe... You just forget. He did not say a word and signalled his man to start driving. I could feel him leaning back on his seat. I didn't bother to look back at him because I gradually felt tired after two hours of facing the camera earlier. I was about to close my eyes and took some rest when he spoke again. "You've got an offer in Paris?" he asked coldly. I sighed and then idly turned around, he immediately met my eyes. I no longer wonder how he found out. Knowing him and his connections, nothing is really surprising. I would be even more surprised if he knew nothing about the offers that were given to me. "Do not worry, I turned down the offer," I replied bitterly. "Good," he simply said and went back to his position. I just shook my head and continued what I was about to do earlier¾take a nap. "Just stay here, you're not leaving. You're not going away," I heard him whispered before I drifted into oblivion. "MA'AM." I woke up from a gentle pat on my shoulder. I immediately wandered around and noticed that I was already in my room, at my husband’s house. That's right, I'm married to the man I was with earlier, Valjerome. I smiled a little at Manang Fe¾the caretaker of the mansion¾and slowly got up. "What time is it, Manang?" I politely asked and fixed my robe. I was stunned for a moment and my cheeks warmed at the thought that Valjerome had dressed me again. That jerk! "It was ten o'clock in the evening, hija. Sir Valjerome told me to wake you up for dinner," said Manang. "Is he still here?" I asked. We may have been in the same house but we slept separately¾which he himself, decided. "Yes, he is in his room with—" The old lady stopped and bowed down. I sighed and tapped the old woman's shoulder. I forced a smile as she looked up at me. "It was okay, Manang. I'm used to it so you do not have to keep it a secret," I said. She looked at me in such pity. "Why didn't you just break up with him, hija?" Manang Fe asked me. I averted my gaze. "Maybe because I love him,” I looked at her and forced a smile when the pity in her eyes doubled. "I can still tolerate it," I added. Manang Fe sighed then gave me a hug. "May your patience for him have a purpose," she said softly. Impossible, but I hope so. "You go down first, I'll follow later," I said as we separate ways. Manang nodded and did what I have said. For the moment I fixed myself in the mirror, my forehead furrowed when I noticed my make-up on my face was removed. I just shrugged it off thinking that Manang wiped it off because it was impossible for Valjerome to know such things. All he does is change my clothes. As I am done with my appearance, I left my room. I was stunned to walk when I came across Valjerome's room. I let out a bitter smile when I heard soft moans from there. It was not new to me, but I’m still hurt with this situation. It was been more than two years since the two of us got married, two years of enduring him bringing different women here in the mansion. Two years of questioning why this is happening to me, to us. If what kind of a mistake have I ever done in order for him just to hide me as a wife, but until now the answer remains blank. I was back in my sense when his door suddenly opened. He stood and stared at me seriously while wearing nothing other than his boxer shorts. I immediately took my eyes off of him and then continued walking. Even before I could get away I heard him call his men and ordered to dispatch the woman he had slept with. I laughed softly as I walked down the stairs. Yes, it is also not new to me to hear such a command from him. He is a mafia boss after all, a ruthless one. And I, Jazzie Zamora, is his wife.